Polluted Feelings
by JoeMerl
Summary: He's greedy and smarmy, and desperate for something new. She's destructive and evil, with self-esteem in the tank. Equally bad, but good for each other. Ten Plunder/Blight one-shots and drabbles. Newest chapter: Excitement. COMPLETE.
1. Greed

**Author's Notes:** Inspired by and dedicated to Plunderer01, who not only accidentally dragged me into this fandom but also seems to have made me start to liking this couple (sorry, MAL, but I _am_ a multishipper). Prompts come from the LiveJournal 10_Themes Community.

* * *

Looten Plunder was a greedy, greedy man.

He made no attempt to hide this fact—on the contrary he _reveled _in it, took _pride _in it, showboated his cupidity and developed an entire philosophy dedicated to the glorious sin of avarice. He didn't feign being humble, in his $5,000 suits lined of imported animal skins and his pointless walking stick with its delicately crafted ivory head. He did not give a cent to charity, and no saccharine do-gooder would ask for it without a very long and nasty lecture for their efforts. He paid as few taxes as he could and bragged about it, driving envy into the other billionaires with his multiple tricks and loopholes.

Money, as Plunder saw it, was power, and he _knew_ what it was like to be powerless, he remembered his father scraping and saving to get the family by, and he had worked _damn_ hard to make sure that sort of powerlessness _wasn't_ going to happen to _him._ He had made his way through business school with sweat and blood and all the hard work he could muster, and then he had planned and connived every day that it took him to get his way right up to the top. He had paid his parents back every cent they paid for his education, but the moment that was done he saw no reason to give anything to anybody else. They called him greedy, but if greed simply meant keeping what belonged to you then he didn't see much of a difference between "greedy" and "smart." Oh, you want some money? Then go out and work for it, you lazy bum! Don't expect Looten Plunder to give you handouts, because no one certainly ever gave _him _one. Call it greed if you wanted, but don't you dare act as if you deserve anything more from _him._

Money was power. And once you had enough power, you could get anything, _anything_ you wanted. So when you got down to it, being "greedy" just meant you knew how precious money was. Being "greedy" simply meant that you _knew_ the things that were important, you _knew_ what power was and how to use it, and that you were smart enough to realize that you should _not_ go giving that power away very freely.

Barbara Blight had other kinds of power. But she was greedy with them, too.

"Sorry, Looty, but I'm not looking for a job," she said, leaning back in her seat and sipping vodka from the crystal glass her host had provided.

"Oh, but I would be _very_ happy to have you as the new head of my R&D Department," Plunder said smoothly, staring across his desk at her with his fingers tented between them. "And I'm sure we can come to _some_ sort of an arrangement."

She scoffed, rolling the one eye that Looten could see. "Such as?"

"_Well…_"

Plunder took a folded scrap of paper and slid it across the table to her; she snatched it up, flipped it open, and her cocky grin fell into a jaw-dropping look of shock. This number was _huge,_ much, _much_ more than she had dared to expect; this was the kind of budget whole _wings_ of the U.S. government would kill for, enough to pay for any insane project she wanted in a lab plated with gold.

Blight tore her eyes away from the paper and stared in shock at Plunder. He merely grinned at her, an odd, vicious gleam sparkling in his eyes.

Looten Plunder was a greedy, greedy man.

But sometimes greed was about getting things more _important_ than money.


	2. Lust

**Author's Notes:** For giving me a total of 600 dA points and allowing me to get a new site subscription, Plunderer01 is now the Most Awesome Person in the Universe. Therefore, this fic gets updated today. Hope you enjoy! ;-D

* * *

No one ever told Babs that she was pretty.

No, being "the pretty one" was Bambi's job; Babs was "the smart one," the studious one, the one who got chewed out if her grades dropped to a B because "we know _you _can do better." Bambi was the one who got to be doted on, who got the nice dresses and the china dolls and the little statuettes of horses, because her parents knew that "Babs wasn't interested in things like that." Not that she was; she was perfectly fine with her chemistry set and science books, thank you very much. She had a brain inside her head, no need for her to worry about decorating the outside of it.

Still, Babs always knew she _was _pretty, even if she didn't get the title. Better-looking than Bambi, even if the latter sister had the shinier hair and a figure that you could snap like a twig.

Then came the accident, the scar, and Babs knew that she would never be pretty again.

Well that was fine with her, she snarled, and drove away all the stupid doctors and nurses who tried to feel sorry for her; who needs a pretty face, who needs to be pretty, and she just covered the problem up, veiling half of herself away where nobody could see and offer her mocking words or pitying stares. "Pretty" was overrated anyway, and so was the face—Barbara could still look _good _without being _pretty, _she could still turn men's heads, and she would do it better than that slut of a sister of hers could ever hope to do. If she couldn't be beautiful, couldn't be pretty, the Psyche that men came to revere, she would at least be the Venus, the woman men _wanted,_ not that _she _wanted or needed anything from _them._ She would be sexy, alluring, with her skin-tight spandex and her seductive wit. If no one wanted to look her in the face, they could look at her body; and if she couldn't be pretty, she would be _gorgeous,_ and she would make people see that she didn't need to be like _Bambi _to get by.

Plunder, however, never noticed her looks.

Blight hardly cared what their other fellow Ecovillains thought; they weren't exactly a bunch of lookers themselves, except maybe Zarm, and she didn't even bother much whether people like him even _had _a concept of lust or good looks. Plunder was Blight's target, the one she flirted with, cozied up to, the one she batted her one visible eye at and gave her wicked little grins. Again and again they would team up, but every time they did he seemed completely non-responsive; he was either very stupid or gay, the way that she was throwing herself at him and that he remained utterly stoic.

"Are we ready, Doctor?" he asked, not looking at her, as Blight's face fell from yet another attempt to make him turn around and see her.

"Yeah," she growled, dropping her flirtatious pose and glaring down at the controls of her newest device. "Power readings are at maximum. The Radiation Ray's ready to blow those Planet-punks right out of the sky," she said, not sounding at all as happy about it as she should be.

"Excellent," Plunder grinned, rubbing his hands together. He sighed. "You really _are_ a brilliant woman, Babs."

She did a double-take. "What did you—really?"

He seemed already distracted again, watching the Geocruiser on one of the nearby screens. "Shall we fire?"

Blight stared at the side of his head for a moment, then smiled slightly as she pressed a button on the control panel before her.

Looten laughed as the Planeteers' ship crashed into the jungle below, but Babs turned away to look at a blank screen, examining her reflection on its dark surface. Her hair still covered half her face, though as she turned the burnt and ugly skin peeked out. A hand ran down the front of her suit, the small, wicked grin remaining on her face.

She wasn't pretty, and Looten didn't seem to think she was particularly sexy either.

_Hmph. _Whatever.

Like looks really mattered, anyway.


	3. Envy

**Author's Notes:** Very short, hopefully still good.

* * *

Looten Plunder was _not_ jealous of a collection of wires installed in Dr. Blight's walls.

"MAL baby, Looty here has a nasty little rainforest he needs to get rid of. Could you pull up the schematics for that new weapon we've been working on?"

"But of course, Doctor Dearest," the computer simpers, and he seems to throw Plunder a mocking look before his visage disappears from the screen.

He can't stand that thing, really, that annoying personality Blight allows to live in her machines. MAL. What a stupid name, and what a stupid person—_faux-_person—he was, he wondered how Blight could even stand having him around all the time. Why did she even need him, anyway? He wasn't real, and he wasn't necessary—was it really so hard for her to just press some extra buttons to get whatever information she just asked him to go find for her? Was programming a whole new persona into the machine really _easier?_ Did it even save any _time, _with all their little banter and his snide little insults that seemed to go on forever? What was the freaking _point?_

And why did she have to act—_that way_ around him, it was ridiculous! MAL wasn't even a person—he was a _device, _he was a glorified _toaster oven, _who the hell went around calling their appliances "baby" or "MALikins," the kind of talk that would be cloying for a pet but seemed downright _disturbing _for an android? What was _wrong _with her?

"So, how's the plan proceeding, honey?"

"Excellently, my good doctor."

Plunder scowled, turning away.

Really, what was wrong with that woman, talking to a machine that way?

Especially with a _real_ person she could talk to right there in the room?

* * *

**A/N:** I must write a real MAL/Blight story one of these days; it's so twisted and amusing.

And incidentally, I know more people are reading this...come on, fellow Eco-villain fans, out yourselves! ;-D There's nothing wrong with liking a slightly weirder pairing, don't be ashamed.

And a happy Fourth of July to my fellow American readers. ;-D


	4. Fear

**Author's Notes:** An update, both because I've neglected this and because Plunderer01 needs some cheering up. ;-)

* * *

Babs didn't want to admit it, but she was afraid of Looten Plunder.

She wasn't afraid of him in terms of violence; they were allies, after all, if by nature treacherous and villainous ones, and anyway she would like to _see _that twig-man or even his far bulkier assistant try to take her down if they wanted. Babs had a whole host of weapons to choose from in case of attack—MAL and his own defense systems, at least one electrified weapon or particle ray hidden on her person at all times, a variety of poisons and toxins and enough knowledge of hand-to-hand combat to get by in a pinch. And anyway, it wasn't like she was some kind of _idiot_—when she went to work with Plunderer it was because she _knew_ he needed her, and she never let him know enough about her technology that he could turn on her in the middle of a scheme and still succeed. A smart villain knew when to trust her allies, after all—_never._

But of course, that sort of philosophy doesn't really work as well when it comes to _romance._

It had been a long time since Babs had given up on men. Not that she had ever _entirely_ given up on them—she still flirted, she still seduced (or tried to, anyway), but as for actual romance, affection, _love_ or any of that crap, forget it, those ships had sailed a _long_ time ago as far as _she_ was concerned. Babs knew that she was special, different from other people—she was a genius with almost no intellectual equals, and none of the men who could match her had the sense of _vision_ that Barbara Blight possessed, that desire to take the world and _truly_ twist it to her own wicked designs. A few of the other Ecovillains came close to fitting the bill, like Skumm or Nukem, but one was a freakin' rat-man while the other's brain was melting faster than an ice sculpture in the Sahara. It was easier to just give up on the whole idiotic gender, none of whom actually understood her or even bothered to look past the disfigured half of her face. She had MAL to replace them, an intellectual companion programmed for complete devotion. He was a safer option anyway, he was entirely dependent on her, he could be altered or changed on a whim, and she could always turn him off and wipe his memory if there were any _big_ problems in their relationship. A _real _man could_ fake_ affection; with MAL she knew his feelings were real, because she wrote them herself in programs and codes.

Plunder, however..._he _was different. Oh, he was nowhere close to him in terms of I.Q., but he had different smarts, he was savvier than her, cleverer, and to Babs' own shock he could come up with tricks and traps that she would never have thought of. She had long given up on "polite society" as the realm of idiots, and when it stood in her way she simply went at it with a sledgehammer and smashed it to bits. _He_ could finagle the system, work it to his whim—when she was already figuring out how to escape from jail, he calmly came up with some loopholes that got them both out of trouble. As the head of his R&D department some of her work was actually able to get published, and she could spend more time on her research without having to steal the necessary funds. It felt...nice, actually. Nice to be respected, at least to some degree by the rest of the world. Nice to have real people listening to her, the lesser scientists he hired for her to order around. And though she was reluctant to say it, it felt nice _talking _to him, _scheming _with him, letting his rational intelligence augment her scientific brilliance. He was just as driven as she was, but in ways that were different and exciting to her, ways that made their plans sharper and more complete, harder for the authorities or those meddling Planet-punks to spoil.

And yet some part of her dreaded him, loathed to be around him, wanted nothing more than to run away and never see the man again.

What if it was all an act? She could never be sure; this job required her to be sloppier with her usually secretive methods, what if it was just to get his grubby little hands on her technology, then turn on her and cast her away? What if he was collecting information on their illegal activities together, just so he could purge his involvement from the records and throw her to the authorities again? With if he was trying to trick her the same way he tricked the normal world, if he was as villainous to the villains as he was to the do-gooding phonies?

...Or what if he didn't really enjoy her company as much as he said he did, if all those maniacal laughs they had together were fake? What if he really thought she was stupid, thought she was ugly, and was playing her for a fool like so many others had tried to do in the past?

She was afraid. Her instincts told her to run, to break it off, to get out of this job and this—_relationship_ and never, _ever_ look back.

And she tried. She committed herself, she psyched herself for it, but somehow when she marched up to him determined those two final words "I quit" never passed through her lips.

She was afraid of Looten Plunder. But it was too late.

Because at this point in their relationship, she was somehow even _more _afraid of giving him up.


	5. Love

**Author's Notes:** By far my longest story yet for this fic, and a rather odd take on what seems like a simple prompt. Enjoy!_  
_

**

* * *

**_THUKA-THUKA-THUKA-THUKA__—_

The steady sound of the helicopter blades combined with the soft roar of the engine was giving Plunder a headache, and that was doing nothing to help his already-foul mood. "What's the problem, Bleak?" he growled testily, giving his assistant a dark sideways look.

"Just looking for a place to land, boss," Bleak responded shortly. He was oddly jittery, his tone holding a slight edge of nervousness. "There's so many damn trees...we'll have to try the beach."

"Do it."

They descended; the uneven sand was hardly the best place to set down, especially as it put them in plain sight of their enemies, but given the circumstances Plunder didn't really see how stealth was an asset anyway. "Wait for me here," Plunder said simply, unbuckling himself and moving to retrieve the precious cargo from the back of the vehicle.

Bleak hesitated. "Sure you won't need my help, boss?"

"Yes." The voice was flat and almost emotionless, but with a slight edge of anger that made even Bleak nervous. Without another word Plunder opened the door to the helicopter, carrying his most prized possession with careful awkwardness in both arms. Despite the difficulty of holding its weight he landed easily on the sandy ground without stumbling, and began to walk alone towards the little commune about fifty yards away.

Bleak sighed wearily, then unsnapped his holster in case he was needed.

Plunder didn't get even halfway down the beach before the door to the bamboo-and-wood hovel opened, and out came the Planeteers; each of their ridiculously-diverse faces showed either anger or nervousness at this turn of events, and the American at least was clearly holding his fist at the ready, red Fire Ring gleaming in the sunlight. Half-surrounded by and half-leading the group was another figure, one whom he had never seen in person before but knew from video images and the occasional mystical transparent sky-vision—Gaia, the so-called "Spirit of the Earth," looking definitely solid now and wearing an expression that could have been either curious or pensive or worried or about a thousand other things, with each potential interpretation somehow making Plunder about equally annoyed.

The two groups were about ten feet away from each other when, as if united by a common will, both sides stopped right in their tracks. Plunder's face might have been carved from stone, hard and impassive; the Planeteer's expressions were more fungible, several sets of eyes widening as they made out what it was their enemy was holding out in his arms. The American's face was just as set as Plunder's, however, and the spirit's remained just as inscrutable.

There was a long moment's pause. It was Gaia who broke it.

"What happened to her, Plunder?" She might already know the answer, or not, she might have been mocking him, or not, her voice was just as unreadable as her expression, much to Plunder's annoyance.

As if she knew they were talking about her, Barbara Blight's head rolled against Plunder's shoulder, a soft moan escaping from her throat. Her face had gotten both paler and greener; even her scar tissue, visible now with her hair fallen back, seemed almost white and sickly. Plunder allowed his eyes to dart down to her for just a moment, wondering how much time he had before even _this_ desperate solution wouldn't be able to do any good.

"Her most recent..._experiment _backfired," Plunder said coolly, staring the supposed spirit right in her bright, mysterious blue eyes. "The gas—"

"That was her own fault!" the American suddenly interrupted, before Gaia waved a hand and gave him a sharp, quieting look. Plunder's face twisted into a sudden, ugly grimace; both of the (human) girls noticed it, and their own expressions grew darker as Gaia turned calmly back to him.

"My Planeteers warned you that that gas of hers was highly dangerous." She paused, and now her expression became easier to read, as she stared at him with an infuriating sternness that made his blood boil. "But of course, you both already knew that, didn't you?"

"What's your _point?_"

"He was going to release that gas on an entire village of people!" the Chinese (or _something_) one said, turning to Gaia while pointing angrily at Plunder.

"If by '_village_' you mean the people squatting on _my_ land..."

"If by '_land_' you mean an entire _rainforest_ you were planning-"

"Linka, enough."

"But Gaia-"

"_Linka._"

The little Commie shut her trap, much to Plunder's relief. He was getting glares from all three of the Planeteers who had spoken, and the black one didn't exactly seem friendly either, though his face seemed more thoughtful than outright hostile. The only one who looked like he _might _be sympathetic to Plunder was that youngest one, the Mexican kid or the Indian or whatever the hell he was. Plunder returned his gaze to Gaia, whose eyes were like cool pieces of ice.

Whether these little terrorists functioned like a democracy or a dictatorship, Plunder was certainly not liking his odds here.

"And what do you want _us_ to do, Looten?" Gaia wondered. Plunder allowed the barest second of silence; the switch to his first name managed to surprise, encourage and infuriate him all in a single moment.

"The best team of doctors I have can't figure out a way to cure her. Even MAL..." Plunder trailed off, and for another brief moment his eyes flickered to Babs' pale, sickly face. "I know whatever..._technology_ you're _hogging_ is more advanced than any of that," he continued, choosing the "t" word over the more-probably-accurate "m."

"You want _us_ to help Blight?" the black one asked. It was close to a statement.

The American scoffed. "No way!"

"She did this to _herself,_ Gaia!"

"We cannot seriously—"

Gaia raised her hand for silence again, then gave Plunder another hard, stern look.

A long moment passed. Plunder scowled.

"I'm not going to _beg,_" he sneered, even as he silently questioned if that statement was really true.

For a moment Plunder could sense that Gaia almost—a_lmost_—rolled her eyes at him, but instead she just silently extended her hands, her empty arms taking the same position as Plunder's full ones.

Without a word Plunder came forward and, very carefully, put his colleague and ally into the hands of his sworn enemy. For some prideful reason he chose to make sure his own skin never touched the spirit's; she seemed to be radiating some sort of strange aura, a kind of pleasant coolness that contrasted to the bright heat of the sun, and a youthful, almost mystical sense of life and joy that just made Plunder even _more_ enraged that this whole situation couldn't be taking place in a cold hospital emergency room under the pleasant harshness of a florescent light.

"Is there anything we can actually _do_ for her, Gaia?" the youngest one asked, speaking for the first time.

"The powers of the Earth hold many cures," the spirit said, which was so vague and idiotically New-Agey that Plunder had to resist the urge to throw his head back and _scream. _"Come, Planeteers," she said, turning with Blight in her arms to make her way back to their cottage. Then she paused, half-turning to Plunder. "_You _can come, too, if you like."

She turned and walked off with her little cult of followers, the American, Chinese and Russian members audibly grumbling about this turn of events. Plunder growled softly to himself as well, then after a moment's hesitation went off after them. Might as well see the inside of their base, that might be _useful _at least...

He tried to keep a foot or two back from the group, keeping a step or two behind the Spanish kid, who made up the rear. His eyes darted around the island, then to Gaia's back (or more accurately Blight's head and feet, which he could see dangling from this angle), then back to the island, back to Gaia and Blight—

He heard a slight noise, then suddenly became aware of a pinkish light coming from the little spick's Ring; the boy was staring at it closely, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing? !" Plunder suddenly spat, and the boy was so startled that he jumped, the light cutting off like a candle being extinguished. Plunder knew the little one barely _had _any sort of powers, but he wasn't going to be taking any chances _now._

"Um—nothing," he said a bit nervously, giving Plunder a sideways look. "It's just..."

"Just _what?_"

The boy continued staring at him. "You really _do_ love her, don't you?"

Plunder blinked but didn't answer, turning away and looking straight forward with hard, stony eyes. The boy continued to stare at him for a moment, then looked away himself, as if embarrassed.

Blight's head turned toward Plunder now, and the ragged way she was breathing made his empty hands tremble, however impassive his face managed to look.

Damn it.

He really _did,_ didn't he?


	6. Hate

**Author's Note: **I wasn't intending to continue the story from the last chapter, but Fosterb suggested it, and since I wasn't sure what else to do and the last story was so well-received I decided it might be a good idea. Hope you enjoy. :-)

* * *

"I hate this."

"Well, believe it or not, Babs, this isn't exactly _my_ ideal situation, either."

"Why, you—"

Babs sat up in bed, but instantly her livid face went pale and she fell back onto her pillow, groaning in pain. Looten looked away, feigning insouciance. Babs growled.

"I can't believe you brought me here. To these—eco-idiots? ! Did you even _try_ a doctor? !"

"_Yes,_ Barbara, shockingly the thought actually _did_ cross my mind. I had a whole _team,_ in fact, _and_ MAL, and these were the only idiots who had an idea better than notifying your next of kin! So maybe you could just quit _nagging_ me, alright? !"

Babs snarled and looked away, fuming. Looten did the same. For a moment their little hovel-hut was silent except for the distant sound of waves hitting the shoreline. The air was thick with heat and tension.

Babs hated this place. She hated this little bamboo hut, she hated this stupid little infirmary room, she hated this horrible little island and everybody else on it. Even _being_ here made her feel sicker than she had felt before Gaia healed her—or whatever she had done, because Babs was working hard to _will _that thought away, consciously refusing to believe that that platitudinous ghost had actually managed to do what her best technology could not.

It made her angry. Angry to think that those _fools_ had seen her at her weakest, that _they_ had been the ones to help her, that it was them and their little herbs or New Age bull or _magic_ that were allowing her to sit up and breathe clearly again. She felt dirty, betrayed. She was a woman of science, damn it, not a freaking Indian shaman or something! How could her own experiment, MAL, and _Looten_ all fail her at once, force her into this humiliating situation?

She hated them for reducing her to this.

"Well, I—"

As Gaia stepped into the room Babs suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, sputtering for a moment before setting her face into a stony snarl. The spirit didn't seem to notice, but merely walked over and put her hand onto Babs' clammy forehead, ignoring the sound of teeth grinding inside the mad scientist's mouth.

"And how are you feeling, Doctor?"

"Oh, just _peachy,_" Babs snapped, drawing her head back from Gaia's warm, slightly-glowing hand.

"Well, your fever's broken. And your aura feels much brighter than it was earlier."

"My—oh, for the love of—" Babs turned and glared at Looten again, but he was looking pointedly away, unwilling to meet the moronic goddess' eye. From the curl of his lip Babs could tell that he felt just as disgusted as she did. It was oddly comforting to know.

She turned back to Gaia. "Can I go now?" she grumbled, in lieu of many less pleasant thoughts she would rather have voiced.

"It would be better if you stayed. Your condition—"

"Can I get off this rock without dropping dead on the spot?"

"I suppose."

"Good." She got up again, this time more carefully, and reached out instinctively for Looten; he rushed forward and took her arm, easing her out of bed. "Get me out of here, Looty."

"_Gladly._" He took out his cell phone and had Bleak on the phone by the time Babs had gotten to her feet. "Argos—"

Two minutes later the helicopter was parked a dozen yards away from the hut, its blades blasting the sand as Babs and Looten hobbled out onto the beach, a frowning Gaia following. The Planeteers had heard the commotion and were once again glaring from the sidelines, with the exception of Ma-Ti; he left the others and walked right up to the two Ecovillains, blocking their path.

"I am glad you feel better now, Doctor," he said, giving one of his sincere and innocent smiles and trying to give Looten a significant look. "And I'm happy that we could help you two."

Several of his cohorts scoffed loudly. Babs set her jaw. Looten closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling from his teeth in a long, hissing sigh.

"Please…don't _talk,_ boy."

Ma-Ti blinked, put-off, and moved slowly out of the way as Babs and Looten continued to the helicopter. Babs glanced back up at Looten again—again she sensed his stoic fury and felt a sort of desperate kinship. Though he was marginally better at controlling his emotions than she was, Babs had seen him blow up before when faced with so much idiocy—she wondered for a moment at how hard it must have been for him, dealing with these morons while she had been out in her fever.

Babs leaned closer to Looten now, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him support more of her weight. He turned to her, quirking an eyebrow.

"I hate you for bringing me here, you know."

Looten scoffed lightly at her soft tone. Their eyes met and he allowed a faint smile to cross his lips.

"You're welcome."


	7. Depression

Looten Plunder was depressed.

He had no idea why, though. He _had _everything—he was currently on the deck of his own private yacht, sailing along the French Riveria, lounging beside an Olympic-sized heated swimming pool and sipping on $100 champagne while a crew took care of his every need. And yet he felt nothing, no enjoyment. It was annoying, and all the more annoying that annoyance seemed to be about the only real emotion that he could feel at _all_ these days.

It wasn't sadness, exactly; it was ennui, boredom, emptiness. He just couldn't seem to make himself happy. He had always scoffed when people said that money couldn't buy happiness—now he was starting to worry that maybe, just _maybe,_ they were right.

Why the hell wasn't he happy right now? ! He had everything that he had ever wanted. Didn't he? He had everything he had ever _dreamed_ of, anyway, all those years during his childhood and working through business school, all that time he had slaved building up his company—he had money, power, luxuries...why didn't any of it seem to _touch _him anymore?

It was the Planeteers' fault, he decided.

No, it wasn't, he knew. But still, somehow it was those blasted idiots that his mind kept coming back to.

If there was one thing he _really _wanted but hadn't yet managed to achieve, it was the defeat of those meddling planet-punks who kept getting in the way of all of his ventures. He and his fellow Ecovillains had been working harder than ever lately trying to bring them down, in various plans and configurations—most of them realized they needed to work together to take on that _pest,_ Captain Planet, and their combined efforts usually worked better than anything any one of them could pull off alone.

Lately, _he_ had been working most closely with Babs (Dr. Blight, that was), bringing together his resources and her endless scientific knowledge to develop all sorts of methods to counteract the Planeteers' abilities. They both hated them, _he _for what they were doing to his profit margin, _her _for all the scientific discoveries they had managed to prevent her from achieving...and they had actually come close, once or twice, to defeating them. But then again, they always failed.

Looten always got angry whenever that happened. He would erupt into a rage, and smolder for a day or two, but then he would calm down and feel depressed and empty again. That was it, these days—he was always either enraged at the eco-brats or miserable that he kept failing to defeat them, he thought.

Well, that wasn't quite true. If nothing else, _trying _to stop them could actually be rather exhilirating.

Especially when it was with her.

Looten paused, his champagne glass halfway to his lips, cocking his head slightly at the thought.

Yes, that was true...he _did_ feel happy sometimes these days, not on his yacht, not in his failures, not even when he was crushing rival companies and bringing more and more money under PlunderCorp's sway...but fighting the Planeteers with Babs (Dr. Blight), yes, _that_ was something he enjoyed. They had come closer to defeating them together than he had ever managed otherwise—and he actually found the plans they devised to be exciting, mind-boggling, he actually felt _happy_ when Babs (that was, Barbara, er, Blight) was explaining some insane and yet _brilliant_ new machine or process to him, no matter how far above his head the explanation always went. And the way that she just _relished_ the whole thing, the contagious excitement she gave him that _this_ time it would really work, that they would _crush _those infuriating little children once and for all...

Looten took another sip of his champagne, the pleasant sensation touching his tongue but going no deeper.

He put his glass down and picked up his cell phone.

_Riiing...riiing..._

_Click!_

"Who is it? !" her familiar voice snapped, in that irritable tone that told him he had just interrupted one of her experiments.

"Hello, Babs" (yes, _Babs_) he said. "I was just wondering if that grant I wired to your bank account had prompted any new ideas yet?"

"Oh, has it _ever!_" Babs said, her angry tone immediately giving way to one of relishing nastiness. "Listen to _this,_ Looty..."

Looten leaned back in his chair again, a smile slowly curling onto his lips.

_This is the life, _he thought.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Because this fic will be fairly easy to finish (and because Plunderer01 _may_ have been the anonymous person who bought me a new Deviantart membership) I'm going to try to get these last few chapters out quicker...but wish me luck, because by now you probably realize I'm kind of a procrastinator. ;-) Anyway, hope you enjoyed (ironic as that sounds) and please review!


	8. Anger

The Ecovillains were always angry at each other.

They were always allied together, sure, always working together in operations, but at the end of every failed plan they always turned against one another, blaming their colleagues for ruining everything and giving hysterical and idle vows that they would never, _ever_ work with this/these particular idiot(s) again. Those threats would never last, of course—they were all fickle, prone to sudden fits of anger, but it was their hatred of Captain Planet and the Planeteers that truly drove them, and before long they would be working together once again, past losses and tantrums more or less forgotten.

Babs Blight had been like this with each of her allies at one point or another, and they, in turn, had all blamed their failures on some imagined deficiency in her inventions when the opportunity arose. In the end, though, scheming together always proved to be more profitable than holding grudges. It was true for all of them, Looten included.

It was hard to say exactly when the situation changed—it came slowly, in stages, as the two of them began to talk during their missions, when she began to flirt with him the way she flirted with all attractive men, when they began to grow closer. Their relationship was professional at first, then playful, but soon it became deeper, as she told him more about her past and her dreams and her ambitions, and then it became scary. Babs wasn't used to friendship, and she certainly wasn't used to a relationship like _this,_ but over time she began to realize that she was starting to have real feelings for Looten.

And that's when those feelings began to get overridden by anger.

Yes, anger—that was good, that was a feeling she _was _familiar with, an emotion she could handle. How dare Looten do this to her, make her feel this way, as if she were some sort of idiotic schoolgirl? ! She lashed out at him for it, and then at everyone else, shutting herself in her laboratory and refusing to speak to any of her former colleagues. She hated all of them, really she did, and this time her fury at them wasn't fading away in a few days' time.

Looten didn't understand why she was acting this way. Neither did any of the others—only MAL seemed to have some inkling of what was going on, and he received the brunt of her wrath as punishment for his snide comments, and the increasingly-caustic messages he delivered from the other Ecovillains. Looten was no exception here, either—well, good. Let him be angry. Let them all be angry, let them hate her, let them finally leave her alone for a change instead of constantly begging her to build more machines just so that they could wreck them in their next idiotic plan to do whatever stupid thing they had set their minds on this week. Who needed them anyway? !

She was tired of them all. Hell, she was tired in general—anger kept her going, fueled her onward, but over time it couldn't alleviate her loneliness and boredom. Eventually, even that anger was fading away.

But the feelings it masked weren't.

She missed Looten. She hated to admit it, but she wanted him back, she wanted him in the lab with her, watching her experiments, plotting with her on how to use them, building up her confidence that this time, _this time,_ they would finally succeed...she missed all that. And she could have it back so easily, too, with just a phone call—after all, Looten's anger had always faded; how could he stay angry at her now?

All she had to do was give in to her feelings.

She growled at herself. She was still angry. But deep down, she knew that Looten was only a scapegoat.

Because deep down, she was really angry at herself.


	9. Joy

**Author's Notes:** Wow, it's been too long, hasn't it? Given how much else I have on my plate, I really want to get these fics done, so without further ado. the penultimate chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

"_Damn it all! Damn it!_"

_"AGH!_"

Dr. Blight pounded her fists on the broken computer console, sending out another angry shower of sparks. Plunder cursed again and swung his walking stick at the nearest piece of broken factory equipment, then petulantly kicked it like a spoiled child.

The whole factory was demolished. The machines, which a mere hour ago had been pumping out hundreds of Blight's new radiation rays, were now little more than twisted piles of useless metal. Even the roof had been smashed through as Captain Planet and his brats had made their escape.

"This is a disaster! A travesty! Do you have any idea how much money all of this cost? !"

"Forget money!" Blight snapped. "Do you know how much time and effort I put into designing these weapons? ! Not to mention al-Balawi is expecting another shipment by tomorrow! There's no way we can rebuild by then!"

"Who cares? ! I'm out more than a million bucks now! And all thanks to those blasted—"

"Oh, my!" a third, heavily-accented voice called. "What has happened here?"

The Eco-villains' heads snapped around as a man emerged onto the factory floor from the offices in the back. Sa'id Salehi was one of the factory workers hired cheaply from the local population. Since he could read and write in English, Plunder and Blight had decided to give him some administrative duties instead of just putting him on the factory floor with the others from his village. They had come to regret that decision in recent weeks, as it became more and more apparent how utterly _annoying_ he could be.

At the moment, Sa'id was looking around at the mess in astonishment, whistling through his teeth—until Plunder suddenly stalked up to him, eyes burning and forcing Sa'id to retreat until his back hit the wall. Plunder raised his walking stick threateningly.

"_Where were you? !_"

"I b-beg your pardon, Mr. Plunder?"

"After me, Blight and Bleak, _you _are supposed to be the highest-ranking administrator in this factory! It was _your_ job to watch the security cameras for any intruders! What were _you_ doing when that blasted superhero broke in here!"

"I was monitoring the computers, just like Mr. Bleak told me to!" Sa'id squeaked. "But everything happened so quickly—and he took all the security guards with him to capture those young intruders—I am not even sure where the strange flying man came from."

"_Agh,_ he came from the—er, _damn it all!_"

Plunder kicked the same control panel that Blight was standing behind, while she crossed her arms over her chest, throwing back her head haughtily.

"Well, you know, maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had hired some _competent_ security for once!"

"What? ! You're blaming _me_ for this, Blight? !" Plunder jabbed a finger at her. "_You're _the one who said those weapons would actually be able to hurt that flying idiot!"

"I did not! I said—"

"Don't you take that tone with me—"

The two began screaming, throwing accusations so vehemently that spit flew from their mouths at the other. Sa'id's eyes widened. He put up his hands and whistled again, trying to catch their attention.

"Mr. Plunder! Miss Blight! You really must calm down."

"Oh, will you shut _up_ already? !" Blight snapped, breaking away from her fight with Plunder to throw him a fiery glare. "Do you even have any idea how bad this is? The crap we're going to have to deal with when your government doesn't get the weapons they paid for? !"

"It is bad, yes, but it hardly benefits either of you to fight about it," Sa'id said calmly. "Should you not be trying to come up with a solution?"

"And what do you have in mind exactly?" Plunder sneered sarcastically, crossing his arms.

"Well, I am sure that there must be _something,_ yes? You both must have a better attitude," he said, giving a pedantically annoying smile. "It is better to think _positively_ in times of crisis! Why, if you first have an optimistic perspective on things, then you will find solutions all the easier!"

For a moment Blight could only sputter at him, then sneered, opening her mouth to give a vicious retort. Plunder calmly raised his hand, however, then glowered down at Sa'id. "You know, I think you're right, Salehi. In fact, I think I've come up with the solution to our _biggest_ problem right now."

"Excellent, Mr. Plunder!"

"Hmm. You're fired. Get out before I have you shot."

Sa'id's eyes widened. "Are—are you serious?"

Plunder quickly grabbed one of the few weapons that had escaped Captain Planet's rampage and fired it about a foot away from the African man's feet. Sa'id gave a frightened yelp and turned, running out of the building as fast as his legs could carry him.

Plunder gave a grim smile, throwing the radiation rifle onto the broken computer console. "Well. At least _one_ still works."

Despite herself, Blight suddenly burst out laughing. "That _idiot._ He sounded like one of those blasted teenagers."

"_'Come on, Planeteers! If we use teamwork, we can do anything!'_"

"_Pfft! _You did _not_ just try to a Captain Planet accent! You sound like my sister's stupid Hollywood boyfriend!"

"Oh, is that a Californian accent? I always thought it was just generically stupid."

Plunder's grin widened a bit as Blight broke out in giggles. Somehow, their situation suddenly seemed a lot less grim.


	10. Excitement

**Author's Notes:** This final chapter is one that I've been writing in my head for a while, which means that, inevitably, it didn't come out as well as I want it to. Ah well. Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for all the reads, faves and reviews!

* * *

"_Ugh!_" Wheeler tried to twist out of the ropes, but succeeded only in jostling the four other teenagers he was tied to. "_Let us go!_"

"You'll never get away with this!"

"Yeah, yeah." Babs was too distracted to deal with her prisoners now. She waved her hand dismissively; the Planeteers caught a flash of multicolored lights, gleaming from the five stolen Rings adorning each of her fingers.

Babs tried to focus on her computer readings, but even they couldn't hold her attention very well. She felt positively giddy right now—her mind was racing with anticipation, so much adrenaline coursing through her system that it was almost intoxicating. Finally, she was ready—after so many years, so much hard work, one of her plans was finally falling into place—

"Don't you realize what you are doing? !" Ma-Ti called, trying vainly to slip out from his bindings. "Do you have any idea how much destruction this missile is going to cause? !"

"Not yet, little boy, but this test should provide me with _lots_ of new data to analyze." Babs sounded almost breathless as she bent down over her equipment, face shining in the light of her glowing computer monitors.

"Not to mention the _business ventures_ that it will open," a new voice said, as the metal door slid open to admit Babs' partner into the room.

She turned, a smiling sliding easily across her face. "Looty," she said, striding forward to meet him.

"_Babs,_" he sighed. Without another word his arms were around her, pulling her into a short, soft kiss.

Wheeler made a retching sound, but the villainous pair ignored him. Drawing apart, they gazed at each other with half-lidded eyes, lips curled into nearly identical smirks.

"The missile ready, Doctor?"

"Ready _and_ waiting," Babs said, her voice strained with quiet rapture.

Looten drew her closer, taking her Ringed hand in his own and squeezing it tightly. "Excited?" he whispered.

Babs chuckled softly, standing on her toes to reach his face again. "You know it, baby."

They kissed again, a long, passionate kiss, melting into each other with hearts beating rapidly and shivers going down their spines. Ignoring the Planeteers' cries of anger they moved their combined hands down to the computer panel, pressing the blinking red button and launching the toxic fireworks that would make this wonderful moment complete.


End file.
